the taste of silence is bittersweet

at first glance: a moment of heaven over breakfast

my husband left for work a little earlier than usual this morning, and my little bug must have been sleepy, because by the time i was out of the shower, dressed, and blow-dried, he was still snoozing away.

with a sigh of contentment, i listened to the silence of the house. silence, that rare gem. i'm not complaining - i love the hubbub of a full, loving house. but still, as i poured my soy milk over my generic honey nut cheerios (already placed in a bowl courtesy of my awesome husband) and grabbed my book, i thought, "this is heaven."

and for a few minutes, it really was. i didn't have to share my cereal. i didn't have to talk, or listen. i didn't have to pour more juice, or wipe banana off my work pants. i didn't have to tell john not to give his juice to the dog or to his stuffed tiger. i could just ... read. and eat. and sit. in silence. amazing.

but after a moment, i realized i was wishing john was awake. after all, these were precious minutes i could be spending with him! when you consider that we only have about four hours together on a workday, split between morning and night, this was *seriously* cutting into my time with my son! i was really going to miss him today, without starting my day off with his silly antics.

and just as i finished off the last bite of ceral and set my book down, i heard a little sound. "mommy?" said a happy little voice from back in his bedroom. so i got him, dressed him, and we played while i finished my hair and makeup, and talked nonstop on the way to school.

so yes, silence is golden. i enjoyed reading my book in peace ... but my heart sure lit up when i heard that little squeak, and i sure am happy i got some morning with my bug after all.

Comments

i'm furberizing my baby

ok, let's get this straight right off the bat: i don't know if i am literally following dr. furber's methods of sleep training. there are so many versions out there. but saying we're furberizing john is WAY more fun than saying that i'm letting him cry his little lungs out in an attempt to teach him to sleep on his own. it's night two of our efforts. he went right to sleep last night, which was great. and he slept for 5.25 hours (!!!!) before waking up at 2:30 a.m. when he woke up crying, i let him cry for 5 minutes before going in to soothe him. (the soothing barely works at all, by the way, but it's what i'm supposed to do ...) then i let him cry for 10 more minutes before going in to soothe him again. next on the agenda was a 15 minute stretch of crying - but he fell asleep after 8 minutes. so a sum total of 22 minutes of crying. not too bad for night two. i've heard night three can be the worst ... so we'll hold on to our hats tonight. mean

on lullabies

i am not a singer. if you've sat behind me in church, you know this to be true. (and i'm sorry.) a musician, yes. a singer no. and yet i find myself singing to john almost nonstop. and the beauty is, he seems to actually like it! (there's no accounting for taste. he also thinks i'm the most beautiful woman in the world. i'm no ogre, but i'm certainly not winning any beauty contests outside of my son's brain!) and actually, i've written some lullabies for john that are pretty nice. and it made me think: did your parents sing to you? do you remember what they sang, and better yet, if you have kids, do you sing the same songs to them? reply in the comments!

home

annapolis rock 1988 thirty years ago, my family moved from denton, tx, to a tiny rural town in the mountains of maryland. i remember being sad as we sold our things (we were packing everything into two old cars to drive north) and actually crying over the sale of our washing machine. transition does strange things to kids' emotions. yet i remember arriving, excited, into this strange green mountainous place, and i remember even more anticipation as we found a home ("the old taylor place") and got ready for school to start at smithsburg elementary. third grade -- the same grade john starts this school year. i remember meeting my first friend on a dusty dirt road - the "alley" that ran behind the high school tennis courts and athletic fields from our home just at the town's outskirts to her home just outside downtown. (if you've never known a small town downtown, that's probably hard to envision). it was an amazing place to be a child. 199

john's mom works

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